


Six Steps to Being a Hitman

by Uy8hg



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, Hitman AU, Team Nice Dynamite, battle buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 09:29:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13587213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uy8hg/pseuds/Uy8hg
Summary: Gavin and Ryan are each accomplished Hitmen. After they meet at one party, they keep running into each other until their jobs force them to work together.





	1. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Ryan bump into each other on their missions, which causes concern from both parties

“Michael, are we ready to go in, Michael?” Gavin asked, adjusting his jacket cuffs for the third time in the past five minutes. The crowd around the mansion was getting thicker, and if he waited any longer someone might spot him lingering across the street. The suit felt large on him, even though he knew it was tailored to perfection. He’d be changing soon anyway. Faintly, he could hear typing on the other end of the earpiece.

“Yeah, you’re good to go,” Michael confirmed. Gavin took a deep breath, gave his cuffs one more quick adjustment, and walked confidently toward the entrance. As he walked, he adjusted his posture so that he was standing as straight as possible. A tip Gavin had learned was that, if you walked like you owned the place, people would part for you. No one stopped him as he made his way to the bouncer, flashed an invitation, and continued into the party.

If the crowd outside was busy, then the inside was packed. Gavin moved to the side, or as to the side as he could get when there were people every few inches, and stood on his tip toes. He could just make out a table pushed up against the left wall, where the crowd was sparser. Snacks. Perfect. He could look busy while putting himself in a less populated place.

As he maneuvered his way through people who were important in some way or another that Gavin didn’t really care about, his earpiece crackled to life once more. “Hallway to your left. Bathrooms are clear. Staff are going in and out of the kitchen past that. They’re using the entrance by the stairs though, so you should have a good approach from the bathrooms.”

Gavin nodded, knowing Michael would be able to see him over the cameras. Out of habit, his eyes flicked up to one of the cameras. It was exactly where Michael had told him it would be. His friend had been watching the cameras for a week know, memorizing every detail about the mansion. Gavin had done his part, of course, researching the target, a movie producer who’d made a few too many bad business deals.

Speaking of …

“And him?” he asked under his breath. When the earpiece didn’t make any noise, Gavin wondered if he’d been loud enough for the microphone to catch. He was about to repeat the question when the familiar crackle sounded.

“By the refreshments, talking to some other people.” He heard Michael lean back and let out a sigh. “You’re clear if you want to start the plan, or you could wait. No one in the bathrooms still.”

Gavin had just reached the snack table, but he could see the doorway he’d need to go through. The path was mostly clear. It was pretty much a sign to get going.

He swiped a cookie from the nearest plate and shoved it in his mouth before starting toward the bathrooms. There was a wide arched doorway that he ducked through. On the other side a hallway stretched out to his right, completely empty. It was as if the arch of the doorway created an invisible wall that kept people out. Worked for him.

Directly in front of him were the two restrooms and a family stall. To his right, the hallway stretched on until it met with another hall. The wall was lined with portraits of more people Gavin didn’t care about, but as he meandered down the hall he studied the portraits to look busy. As he got closer to the intersection, he could just barely see the two doors on the opposite wall, one on either side of the intersection. From studying the floorplans and watching the security footage, they knew the kitchen was on the other side of those doors.

“Tell me when,” he whispered to Michael. The plan was pretty simple. The door to the right of the intersection was the ‘in’ door, where waiters would return to pick up more food. The door on the left was ‘out’. Once no one was coming in, Gavin would subdue and waiter going out and disguise himself.

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard Michael chime in, “Waiter leaving in 3, 2, 1.”

Gavin stepped into the intersection, his best look of confusion on his face, right as a waiter exited the door to his left. From the middle of the intersection, he could also clearly see the door to the storage room opposite the ‘out’ door, just like it should be. Time to start the act then.

“Excuse me,” he began, the waiter giving a mild look of surprise at someone in their hallway. “Someone dropped a glass. Is there a broom anywhere?”

The waiter blinked, processing his statement, before responding, “Yes, in the closet. I can-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. The moment he turned to move back toward the closet, Gavin wrapped an arm around his throat, grabbed the tray with the other, and subdued the man as he brought them to the floor. He left the tray as he quickly dragged the unconscious waiter into the supply closet, darting out again to grab it before closing himself in the dark room.

“How’d I do, boi?” Gavin asked cheerily, already starting to change clothes in the dark. He got a vague noise back, but it wasn’t shouting so he took that as a ‘good job’. He changed quickly before pulling a handkerchief out of his suit pocket to gag the man. Can’t have him telling anyone and blowing his cover.

Tray in hand, he waited behind the door. “Coast clear?”

“Wait … now.”

Gavin emerged from the closet, heading down the service hall and back into the thick of the party. He’d only been gone five minutes, ten at the max, but the party had gotten much busier, making it hard to get through with the tray. Most people seem to move out of his way though, when they noticed his uniform. Being a waiter was one of his favorite disguises. Everyone acknowledged you but never enough to pay attention to you. A rather good cover for a hitman.

“Target’s moved upstairs. Other ballroom. There’s plenty of places to set aside and poison his drink. Looks like things will go smoothly,” Michael commented. Gavin couldn’t help but frown. He wasn’t superstitious, but from experience things tended to go wrong soon after someone said they wouldn’t. Well, it was out there now, so he’d just have to deal if something came up.

He served his way over to the grand staircase, nodding at a waiter going down as he ascended. The other waiter didn’t seem to notice anything was off, nodding back casually. Even so, Gavin looked away quickly. His nose itched from the mustache Geoff had encouraged him to grow for the job, which only made the back of his neck itch where the rest of his hair had grown longer too. He couldn’t wait to be done with the job and able to clean up.

Gavin took a left at the top of the stairs, heading in the general direction of the smaller ballroom. He stepped down one of the hallways, knowing there were small meeting rooms he could step into to spike the drink. There shouldn’t be anyone in any of them, so he made his way to one at random. He was just turning the doorknob when Michael suddenly shouted in his ear, “No Gavin stop!”

~

For someone who had two careers that often involved him having to be around large groups of people, Ryan hated parties. He didn’t like having that many strangers that close together. It made it hard to escape or defend yourself. Crowds just complicated everything.

Even so, Ryan found himself at yet another party, making his way smoothly into the thick of it without even having to show his invitation. Being a model certainly did have its advantages. Granted, pairing it with being a hitman was an interesting choice, but it did give him access to many events also frequented by his targets. He just had to make sure there were no witnesses, or they would surely be able to ID him.

“Alright,” Jeremy chimed into his ear. “Only Smith is here right now, no sign of Johnson. Mingle around to establish that you’re here and I’ll let you know when it’s time to get killing.”

Ryan nodded, even though Jeremy probably wasn’t looking at the camera for his room. As was his habit, he meandered his way over to the snack table, saying polite ‘hello’s on the way. A few people stopped him to say a few words, and he responded as politely as possible. He just had to keep up that model image, not sure the world just how much he didn’t want to be there.

By the time he finally reached the food, Jeremy popped back in over his comms. “Johnson’s here. Proceed with the plan once you feel like you’ve socialized enough.”

“Right,” Ryan casually responded back. His eyes flashed to the staircase. Sure enough, he could see Johnson’s back making its way up the stairs. They’d guessed that the deal would happen as soon as they were both there, and it seemed like they were right. He said a few more ‘hello’s as he finished his drink, moving toward the staircase. He followed the other man up the stairs, trailing behind as the other man wandered into one of the smaller meeting rooms that were supposed to be off limits. Ryan hung around outside the room, close enough to the door to hear muted discussions inside but casual enough to look like he was just taking a moment away from the crowds.

“They’re talking,” Ryan quietly informed Jeremy, who didn’t get audio over the cameras. He heard his partner’s hums over the coms, barely picked up by the mic but he knew him well enough to recognize the sound.

“Smith’s sitting at the desk. Johnson standing across from him. Neither is armed. Seems peaceful.”

“Tell me when.”

“Ready … go.”

With a quick calming breath, he pulled himself to his full height and casually strolled into the room, closing the door securely behind him. The two men jumped at his intrusion, staring at the newcomer.

“Oi, this is a private matter,” Smith spoke up from the desk.

Ryan shot the two one of his model smiles. “Sorry for the intrusion. I got a bit lost and heard voices.”

“The party’s down the stairs,” Smith shot back. “Just follow the talking.”

“The louder talking,” Johnson cut in, not pleased. Ryan just needed them to let down their guard, and he could get this done with. It should work if he …

“Thank you,” he told them, with a little bow. The two eyed him as he stood back up, but out of the corner eye he could see them resume their conversation as he began to turn back to the door. Perfect.

“Do it, Ryan,” Jeremy encouraged in his ear. Oh, he was going to.

He spun back around, pulling the knife out of his breast pocket. The blade was small, but in his hands it would be deadly. Johnson hadn’t even realized Ryan hadn’t left when there was a new slash in the back of his throat. The man keeled over, falling to the wayside as Ryan turned his attention to Smith, who’d stood up abruptly.

“Who-” he sputtered out, pulling a gun out of his pocket and aiming at Ryan. Unfortunately for the other man, his hasty movements got him caught up on his chair. While he was struggling, Ryan circled the desk, giving the man a matching cut, in the front this time. The gun clattered to the desk.

“Jeez, man,” Jeremy commented as the second target fell to the floor. “Could you have made it any bloodier?”

Ryan looked down at the puddles of blood now staining the carpet, which probably looked worse over the cameras. “Probably. Should I try on the next job?”

“No, no, you should not. You’re a hitman, you’re not supposed to leave any trace.”

“You’re not fun.”

“I’m most of the reason you haven’t been caught yet. Somebody has to keep you in check.” Ryan bit his lip, knowing his partner was speaking the truth. He could get a little reckless sometimes, and Jeremy was pretty good at making sure he didn’t go on murder sprees. Well, at least he tried.

“Whatever,” he muttered, getting back to work. He hoisted up Smith’s body and ungracefully shoved it into a nearby closet. One man down, another to go. Or at least, two men down, one hidden, one to go.

He was just lifting up Johnson up, struggling only a little at the dead weight when the door suddenly opened, no warning from Jeremy at all.

Looking very confused in the doorway stood a simple waiter, with hair slightly long but slicked back, a moustache under a larger nose, and a tray held perfectly still in one hand.

“Uh,” the waiter stuttered, eyes wide and flickering between Ryan, the body, and the still open closet door. Oh, and the blood on the ground. This probably did not look very good.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, entering the mode Jeremy liked to call ‘Vagabond Mode’. It was like normal hitman Ryan, but far more intense and much quicker to anger. Voice low, he glared the poor man down and said, “Turn around, leave, and pretend you never saw anything.” He felt he didn’t need to add an ‘Or else’, given their current standings.

The waiter’s eyes jumped back to Ryan, still wide with terror. He swallowed hard, and spoke up in a painful southern accent. “The moment I turn my back, you’re going to shoot me with that gun.”

Ryan’s eyes widened fractionally, darting to the gun sitting on the desk where Smith had dropped it. He’d nearly forgotten it was there. How did this man-? And now that he thought about it, those words were too calculated, the shaking in his voice not nearly at the level he was used to hearing. Who was this waiter?

The waiter in question was still standing in the doorway, watching Ryan carefully with one arm raised in surrender. He had to do something about this man, his brain immediately flashing to doing exactly what he’d suggested and shooting him quickly. Unfortunately, the door was still open behind him, and he didn’t know if Smith’s gun was silenced.

As if he could read his mind, Jeremy spoke up for the first time since this whole fiasco started. “Don’t kill him Ryan. Someone will notice and you won’t have time to get out.”

Man he hated it when Jeremy was right.

“Then walk out backwards,” he told the waited coolly. The waiter looked more than happy to oblige, backing out and slowly moving his hand down to grab the doorknob. In one quick motion, he darted to the side and closed the door. He could hear faint, hasty steps as the waiter got as far away from him as possible. Good. Well, at least as good as it was going to get.

“You need to get out of there,” Jeremy told him sternly, snapping Ryan back to the present.

“Obviously,” he muttered, hastily shoving the body he was still holding into the closet and shutting the door harshly. “Thanks for the heads up, Lil’ J.”

“I literally did not see him until he was already opening the door. He wasn’t on any of the cameras,” Jeremy quickly defended. That was odd. Jeremy was great with the cameras, knowing how to get around any blind spots that the original owners may have had. If he didn’t see the waiter, something was fishy. That, combined with the way he’d reacted in the room, panicked and calm at the same time, able to see the gun on the desk and deduce what Ryan would do. It didn’t sit right with Ryan.

“Follow him. Watch what he does while I get out of here.”

He could hear Jeremy huff. “I need to watch you so you don’t get caught.”

“Caught?” Ryan asked, putting on the voice he used in interviews. “Why would I get caught? I haven’t done anything wrong.” As if to prove his point, he rubbed a lone spec of blood from his shoe on the carpet and adjusted his cuff, looking directly up at the camera. He knew Jeremy was watching, so he raised an eye brow up at him.

“Fine,” Jeremy gave in. “Just get out fast.”

“I was really thinking about stopping by the snack bar again,” he mused as he exited the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

“Don’t you dare, Haywood.”

“You know I wouldn’t, Dooley.”

“Shut up and get going. I’ll track the waiter.”

“Consider me gone.”

~

“WHAT THE HELL, GAVIN? GIVE A MAN SOME WARNING NEXT TIME!”

“Sorry, Michael boi!” Gavin squawked as he hurried down another hall. How was he supposed to know that the one random room he chose was going to be the scene of another hit? On top of that, there was another hit! At the same party as his! What were the odds?

“Whatever,” Michael barked loudly, causing Gavin to flinch again. “Just get out of there.”

“What?” Gavin stopped in the middle of the hall. “I still have to kill the target!”

“You’re compromised. You need to get out of there.”

Gavin could feel his jaw clenching and unclenching. He didn’t like being on his boi’s bad side, which was hard most of the time, but he also didn’t like giving up on a job.

“Sorry, boi.”

“Gavin, don’t you dare.”

Giving a quick sweep to make sure the hall was empty, Gavin pulled out the poison pellet from his pocket and slipped it quickly into a drink on his tray. He could hear Michael sigh loudly and far too dramatically on the other side of the comms, but he didn’t protest.

“In and out,” he murmured, adjusting his posture and speed walking to the ballroom. The party was still in full swing, unaware of any of the murders that were happening in the mansion that night. Gavin weaved his way expertly through the crowd, approaching the head he knew belonged to the target. He eased up beside him and his partner, offering the tray in a way the placed the poison beverage directly in front of the soon-to-be-dead man. “Beverage?” he asked politely in his best American accent that he knew Michael hated.

The man took the drink with a smile, which caused Gavin to smile in return. His job done, he hurried out of the ballroom and made his way back to the storeroom. His hostage was awake, looking very startled and terrified of Gavin as he sat in the dark in his underwear. Gavin offered him a cheeky grin before closing the door, changing quickly back despite the squeaks from the other man. Once he was dressed again, he offered the poor waiter another wink before heading out, letting Michael guide him out of the mansion and off the premises to where he’d parked his bike.

“Mission complete!” he chirped happily as he put his helmet on.

“Shut up and get back here so I can hit you.”

“So mean, Michael boi!”

“Shut up.”

~

“Ryan.” Jeremy’s voice popped into his head just as he was stepping out a side door into the cool night air.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, eyeing a few partygoers nearby enjoying the night.

“He put something in a drink, gave it a man, and the man’s dead now.”

Ryan stopped in the middle of the path. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. “What?”

“He poisoned someone. He’s a hitman.”

Of course. Everything clicked into place. His reaction, how he avoided the cameras, everything. “Get as clear a photo of him as you can. Start searching. I want to know who he is.”

“You betcha.”

Ryan hurried down the path and off the premises, leaving the party far behind him. He’d had far too much interaction for one night, ready to leave everything behind. He didn’t like surprises, and that waiter had been one. No, not a waiter. Another hitman, at the same party as him. He wanted to believe it was coincidence, but what if it wasn’t? He’d have to keep an eye out, him and Jeremy both.

This world wasn’t big enough for two top hitmen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first multi-chapter fic in a long time. I don't know how regularly this will update, but it should be 6 chapters in total (unless it runs longer. who knows). I hope to get the next chapter up soon, so please stick with me!  
> 


	2. Second Glances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Jeremy attempt to hunt down the weird waiter, while Gavin and Michael try to remain professional.

“Good morning!” Jeremy called out from somewhere deeper in the apartment when Ryan comes in. He closed the door firmly behind him before he took his outerwear off and made his way in. His feet led him to the computer room where he knew Jeremy would be. Sure enough, the man was sitting in his favorite rolling chair in the midst of all his monitors.

“Anything yet?” Ryan asked, leaning in to try and figure out what the monitors said. He considered himself a pretty good hacker if he did say so himself, but Jeremy had a certain knack for finding things even Ryan couldn’t. He was lucky that he’d found the other man and didn’t have to do all the work himself anymore. There’d be no more repeats of that one time in Paris, when he’d guessed the traitor incorrectly and ended up sending several models out onto the runway in various states of disarray. It was a good thing people liked his work, or that might have been the end of his modeling career.

“No, nothing. This guy is elusive,” Jeremy supplied, making Ryan frown. It was a bad sign if Jeremy couldn’t find anything. Normally they could find even a shred of detail that would lead to something more, but nothing?

“Nothing at all?” He had to double check he’d heard right. Surely there was something?

“Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”

Ryan cursed just as the two heard the front door open. They shared a look, silently asking if they were expecting anyone else. When both their faces ended up blank, Ryan’s hand instinctively moved to the gun on his hip. Their headquarters was hard to find, and only the two of them knew about it.

Well, the two of them and their employer, who was just walking into the surveillance room.

“Hey guys!” Jack greeted happily, still bundled up in his coat. Ryan blinked at the unexpected presence from where he was still bent over by the screens. When it finally clicked who was standing in front of them, he relaxed.

“Jack!” he started. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“What, I can’t stop by my favorite workers’ office?” Jack quipped as he shrugged his jacket off before coming over to ruffle Jeremy’s hair, only to find nothing there. He pulled his hand back suddenly, staring down at Jeremy, who just turned his chair to stare back up at Jack. “What’d you do to your hair?”

“Shaved it. Wanted a change,” Jeremy shrugged, turning back to a random monitor and typing away.

Conversation apparently over, Jack turned his attention back to Ryan. “So, what’s new with you two?”

Over the course of half a second, Ryan contemplated how he should respond. Jack knew more about the hitman world than either of them, a retired hitman himself who now managed several hitmen groups, themselves included. Over his years he’d made many friends, and many enemies. Would it be productive to ask him if he knew the waiter? Or would it just look like the two of them couldn’t handle themselves and were getting worked up over possibly nothing?

“Who’s that?” Jack asked instead, breaking off Ryan’s thoughts. Ryan turned to find a blurry screenshot of the waiter on the screen behind him. He blinked at the screen, not quite realizing that they’d left the photo up. Jeremy turned to look and he could see a similar look growing on his face.

Well, he guessed that made the decision for them.

“We don’t know. That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Ryan informed him gruffly, standing back up to look at the picture with Jack. “I bumped into him on that last mission, in LA. He walked into the room as I was cleaning up-”

“He saw you? Someone saw you?” Jack interrupted, turning away from the screen to look at Ryan. When Ryan didn’t turn to face him, gaze intently locked on the screen, he grabbed his shoulders and turned him so that they were face to face. “He saw you?” Jack repeated.

“Calm down.” Ryan brushed Jack’s hand off, motioning for Jeremy to flip through the pictures he knew the other man had. “He’s not just a waiter. He didn’t act right, and when Jeremy tracked him he watched him poison someone.”

“So another Hitman,” Jack muttered. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the other man lean closer to the monitor before he reached for Jeremy’s mouse, which was readily supplied to him. The three stayed in silence for several moments as Jack maneuvered through the photos. When he finally seemed satisfied, he let out a little huff and stood back up. “I have an idea, but I’ll need to check with someone. I can get back to you two.”

He shrugged his coat back on properly and started zipping it back up. Jeremy reclaimed his mouse and flipped back to another screen to start looking something up, leaving Ryan to just watch Jack. As the other man finished getting ready, he turned back to them in the doorway. “And Ryan?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let anyone see you. Hitman or not. You should know better.”

Ryan’s heart sunk. He’d hoped he could get away telling Jack without getting a scolding, but it seemed that wouldn’t happen. Jack scoldings were the worst. They were the embodiment of ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’. He could lecture you in the nicest possible way while still making you feel like if you stepped out of line again he’d had your head. But in a polite, ‘you earned it’ sort of a way.

“Yes, sir,” Ryan told him, giving him a little bow to show he meant it. When he stood back up Jack was looking at him with fondness in his eyes, but Ryan knew he would hold him to his words.

“Anyway, I just wanted to stop in and say hi. I was in town so I figured I may as well. Also, that way I could give you this in person!” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a small flash drive, handing it to Ryan, who immediately put it in Jeremy’s waiting hands. “New mission. It’s in Italy! It should be nice and easy for you.” He shot a look at Ryan. “With no witnesses.”

“Noted,” Ryan nodded. He waved Jack off as Jeremy furiously tapped away at the computers. When he heard the front door close again, he turned back to the monitors. The pictures of the waiter were still up, taunting him. Jack had left it on an image from right after the other man had left Ryan. Ryan frowned down at the screen, sweeping over the photo he probably had memorized at this point.

They’d stared at these photos for hours, but Ryan still couldn’t understand the look on that waiter’s face in this one photo. Having just seen several dead bodies, any normal person should look terrified, but this man looked far too calm. If anything, he looked like he was smiling, mouth open as if talking to someone. Ryan glared at the screen as if it could make the image tell him something he didn’t already know.

Jeremy must have noticed, because a moment later the chair swiveled to face him. “Want to go get coffee?” he offered. Ryan looked up, meeting the other man’s gaze, which was pointedly on him and not the screen a few inches from Ryan’s face.

He sighed, giving in. “Sure. I’d love that.”

“Sweet. I’ll grab my jacket.” The shorter man practically jumped out of his chair and out the door, and he could hear him sliding in his socks down the hallways.  
“Not the tie dye one!” Ryan called after him. “You look like a fashion disaster in that!”

“And who are you to judge?” Jeremy called back, reappearing in the doorway with said tie dye jacket. The purple and orange really did not go together, and they should never be put together, especially not in tie dye or on jackets, but there Jeremy was.

“I’m a model. I’d hope I knew fashion,” Ryan deadpanned, passing the man to go grab his shoes.

“Then explain the dad jeans and horrible sneakers!” Jeremy called back to him. Ryan scoffed. There was nothing wrong with his jeans, thank you very much. Okay, maybe his shoes were a little beat up, but they worked.

Jeremy reappeared, wearing a normal black jacket and frowning down at Ryan’s shoes. When he looked up, one eyebrow was raised pointedly.

“Shut up,” he told him as they made their way out.

~

“Ahh, it feels so good to be back in Europe!” Gavin sighed, stretching as he adjusted in his vantage point. Granted, he’d already been here a couple of hours, but the newness of it hadn’t quite faded off yet.

“You were here two weeks ago,” Michael pointed out. The earpiece crackled at the sound, and Gavin adjusted it in his ear to try to make it any better. Their tech didn’t work quite as well in Europe, for whatever reason. He blamed the internet connection in the hotels. At least Michael got to hang out in the luxurious suites instead of his cramped computer room at home. Michael might not think so, but Gavin would rather be in a nice hotel room than in a small, too hot room surrounded by monitors and PCs. You could be in the hot tub at the hotel and it wouldn’t change anything! It made him wonder if Michael actually was in the hot tub.

“Are you working from the hot tub, Michael?” he asked. The earpiece crackled in the silence, Gavin waiting patiently for the response.

“What? Where was that from?” Michael asked, and Gavin thought he heard something like incredulity in his tone, but that may have just been the connection.

“What do you mean, boi? And you didn’t answer the question.”

“No I’m not in the hot tub, you idiot!” Michael barked, causing Gavin to flinch yet giggle. “I’m at the computer, doing my job. Just like you should be doing.”

“But my job’s not on the computer,” Gavin shot back, aimlessly shifting to grab his gun. He’d already checked it plenty of times, making sure everything was in working order. He hoisted it to look down the sights for the fourth time in the past three minutes, scanning the horizon. There were boats out on the water, weird in the fading light, but he figured some people might like watching the sunset from their own private floating house.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s not on the computer, you should still be doing your job. Do you have eyes on the target yet?”

Gavin swung the sniper rifle around, shifting himself and the gun into a proper position to look down at the crowd. There was a collection of people out on the terrace, growing by the minute, but he still couldn’t see their target. He pouted, swinging the gun to look back toward the orange sky.

“No, he’s still not outside. How much longer is he going to make us wait?”

“You’re the one who insisted on sniping him. You’ve just got to be patient.”

“Yeah, yeah. Patience.”

The two of them fell into silence, Gavin looking around through his scope while Michael probably did something techy that Gavin didn’t understand. He was only ever good at cameras, and even that set of skills didn’t really apply to their line of work. Michael had told him more than once that if he just spent an hour or so learning he could probably get the hang of several important skills, but Gavin always brushed him off. There was always something more important at the time, so Michael had yet to teach him anything, much to the frustration of the other man.

“Heads up. He’s moving out.” Gavin perked up at the sound of his boi’s voice, swinging the rifle back toward the crowd.

“Out where? Terrace? Upper level? Lower? Leaving?”

“Terrace. Right where we predicted.”

Gavin squinted down the scope, analyzing the crowd to find the one man who matched their target’s description. Michael had even managed to figure out what color suit he was wearing. It shouldn’t be that hard to find a guy in a navy blue suit, but apparently that color was in fashion here in Italy.

He finally saw a flash of blue and light hair, locking on quickly. “Found him,” he reported, following the man through the scope as he socialized and made his way around. It wouldn’t be hard to get him once through the head, unless he made any sudden movements. From what he could tell, the man was just lazily making his way around with no goal in mind. Perfect.

“I’m scanning for guards, give me a second. I’ll let you know when no one’s looking.”

He knew better than to talk back to Michael, especially over things they’d discussed before, but he couldn’t help it. “Why does it matter? The rifle’s silenced and someone’s going to notice him collapse immediately.”

“It matters because if they’re looking, they might see where the bullet came from, you idiot,” Michael explained slowly to him. “At least give them the challenge of triangulating it.” Gavin shrugged, like he did every time regardless of whether Michael could see him or not. He’d wait for his boi’s command anyway.

“It’s looking good so far. Should be able to fire soon. Get ready.”

“Right-o, Micheal boi!” He was still watching the man’s head through the scope, ready for whenever Michael gave him the all clear. He shifted his position, making sure he wasn’t uncomfortable in case Michael made him wait for minutes.

“I think you’re almost good,” Michael murmured. He could almost picture his partner leaning in close to the screen despite his glasses, as if that would make the screen clearer.

“Then I’m almost ready,” he whispered back, snickering at his own joke despite the sigh it earned from the other man.

In the course of the next few seconds, several things happened on top of each other. Michael, through the comms in his ear, started his countdown, declaring, “You’re clear. Fire in 3-” In the same moment, a small object passed through the view of Gavin’s scope. Instinctively, Gavin snapped his focus to that, following as it tumbled to the floor.

“2-”

Gavin frowned, trying to identify the tiny yellow object as it settled between the feet of the partygoers.

“1-”

He squinted, waiting to catch glimpses of the object between the many legs. Suddenly, the object flashed a small red light, barely noticeable with so many things in the way. Unfortunately, Gavin knew what that meant.

“Go.”

“No-” Gavin mumbled at the same time. In the exact moment the word left his mouth, a loud boom rocked his view. His scope filled with oranges and yellows, and he reeled backward, blinking furiously to adjust to the now non-zoomed in view of the party.

Smoke was rising upward from the crowd, and he could see people furiously trying to get away. He scanned the bodies lying on the ground, right where his target was supposed to be.

“Gavin, what happened? What’s going on?” Michael yelled at him through the comms, or at least that’s what he thought he said. The crackly static and the lingering ringing did not help.

“There was an explosion,” he supplied anyway. “A rubber duck exploded.”

“A rubber what?!” Okay, that he heard. As Michael screamed curses and questions into his ear, his eyes finally landed on a navy suit.

“The target’s dead,” Gavin spoke solidly, unable to look away from the body on the ground. The suit wasn’t as pristine as it had been moments before, singed by flames and specks of blood. Gavin swallowed uneasily, eyeing the other bodies around him. If he’d taken the shot, if this had been his killing, there’d only be one person dead, not all these other casualties. Someone else was here, and he didn’t like it.

An image flashed through his mind, bright blue eyes as he held up a limp corpse, ready to put it with the other one in the closet. Could he be here too?

“Gavin, you need to get out of there,” Michael was telling him, but Gavin was still scanning the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of the man he’d seen briefly and dismissed less than a week ago in LA. Michael had tried to look him up, but had told him it was only some model and that they must have the wrong guy. But Gavin had seen the photos, couldn’t get the other man’s face out of his mind. He was a Hitman alright, with a sneaky cover and a knack for messes.

Messes like this one.

His eyes landed on a squabble near the back. Someone, wearing a bright polka-dotted shirt and an obnoxiously red and curly wig, looked like he was swinging a bat at guards. An actual baseball bat, that happened to create a puff of confetti with each connection. And boy, were there a lot of connections as the guy tried to fight his way out.

“Michael, are you seeing this, Michael?” Gavin asked, unable to tear his eyes away from the man.

“The explosion? Yes I saw it you idiot, now get out of there!”

“No, the clown hitting people with a baseball bat. He must have been the one to throw the explosive.”

“A clown? What the hell are you talking about? Now get out of there before I come get you myself!”

As Michael berated him, he watch the clown hit another guard before running around the corner and out of sight. The urge to climb off the roof and try to follow him flickered in his mind, but Michael’s screaming overruled the idea. “Alright,” he sighed, finally turning away from the mess down below. He slung the rifle over his shoulder as he made his way back through the apartment, the poor occupant unconscious on the bed where he’d set him as gently as possible.

It didn’t take long for him to get to the van he’d arrived in. It was still parked where he’d left it. He hopped in quickly and sat back, letting Michael drive him remotely back to their hotel, mind still focused on a tiny rubber duck and a baseball bat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around for another chapter! I hope to have the next one up in the next few weeks, but finalssss, so please check back!
> 
> As always I'm available for screaming at here and on my Tumblr [uy8hg.tumblr.com](uy8hg.tumblr.com)


	3. Third Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Michael learn some valuable information, while Ryan overhears a private conversation.

Gavin strolled into the living room, a mug of warm beverage in either hand. Michael had stationed himself on the couch with his laptop on his outstretched legs. Due to the fact he could hear Michael’s clicks from the kitchen, he guessed that Michael was still a bit upset over Sapienza. With a sigh, Gavin gently nudged his feet off the table, careful not to spill any hot liquid onto his friend’s shins. When Michael silently moved his feet, Gavin set down the drink on the uncovered coaster.

“Got you some coffee, boi!” he announced, with as much cheer as he could muster. Jet-lag was still hitting him hard, despite how frequently he traveled around. He’d hoped his body would adjust to the constant time zone changing after the first few years, but all it had managed to do was make him eternally tired.

Michael didn’t look much better. He leaned over to grab the mug, taking a long sip of the drink Gavin knew was still scalding. His boi wasn’t used to flying with him, but he’d needed him with him in Italy. The way the mission had went didn’t help at all. Gavin still frowned when he thought about the explosion. The target had gotten taken out, yes, but it hadn’t been him, and from how far away the bomb had landed from the target, he guessed that he hadn’t been the other person’s target. Speaking of other person, he wasn’t happy about seeing that clown. The weird thing in Sapienza, layered on top of meeting that model at the party, he wasn’t very happy about how his missions had been going lately.

He was shaken out of his silent hatred by Michael, who’d stopped drinking to stare angrily into the mug. “There’s nothing in this!” he announced. Gavin nodded, sitting down next to him.

“Figured you didn’t need anything too fancy. Just some good old black coffee.” He looked over at his friend, slouched back into the couch and still staring down. Was the light playing tricks with him, or where there dark circles under his eyes? “You should go to bed soon. Get back on the right time.”

Michael shook him off, finally looking away from his mug to set it down and return to his laptop. Gavin leaned over, trying to see past the glare from the lights, but Michael just shifted away. Gavin frowned. Was his boi keeping secrets from him?

“What are you working on?” he asked, trying to lean back casually while also adjusting to get a different angle. No luck. Michael just slammed the laptop shut abruptly and set it aside, grabbing the coffee instead.

“Nothing,” he grumbled into his mug. “Just going over footage from Italy again.”

Gavin took a sip of his tea, watching Michael for clues before asking, “Looking for anything in particular?”

“What do you think?” Michael barked. Gavin shifted back. He knew his partner was upset, but he had hoped he wouldn’t let it get to him. It was one thing to be on the job and run into someone, but it must be a whole different feeling to watch it happen without being able to do anything. When he’d gotten back from the job, Michael had told him he hadn’t seen the clown on the cameras at all. Even after the explosion had gone off, when Gavin had seen the clown fighting for his life to get out, there was no sign of him on the cameras. It had annoyed him that he hadn’t been the one to take out his target, or that he couldn’t confront that clown, but Michael seemed to be taking it harder.

May as well try switching tactics. “Pull up the model’s page again. Maybe we missed something,” he suggested, taking a sip of his tea. Michael grumbled, but he pulled the laptop back onto his lap and didn’t protest as Gavin snuggled closer. He tabbed through his bookmarks until they were staring at the man’s website.

It was professional, to say the least. The whole thing was monochrome, sleek and simple. A large picture of the model adorned the front of the homepage. The only hint of color on the entire page was a few accents of red in his suit. The name ‘Ryan Haywood’ was blocked out along the top, font bold and plain. His other links were laid out below. They’d paged through each one dozens of times, but couldn’t find anything that would suggest he had another job killing people. They’d even scoured the fine print, only to come up empty.

“Now what,” Michael asked, but the bitter tone in his voice wasn’t as sharp as it had been. If anything, it was just tired. “Nothing’s changed since we looked yesterday.”

Gavin sank lower into the couch. “I don’t know, boi, but we’ll figure it out.”

The sound of a key turning a lock suddenly sounded through the apartment. Gavin’s gaze shifted over to watch Geoff shuffled through the front door. He caught their eyes and smiled. “What’s up?” he asked, closing the door to make his way in further. If he found the two staring at him from the couch suspicious, he didn’t say anything.

Gavin turned to look at Michael, who looked just about as begrudging to share their task as he felt. As Geoff came over, Michael exited out of the tab and closed his laptop slowly.

“Nothing really,” Gavin answered, turning the cheer back up. He smiled at Geoff, who smiled back.

“Coffee?” he asked, pointing at their mugs. Gavin nodded.

“There’s more in the pot, or just hot water for tea. The fridge is also stocked with new Diet Coke.”

He could see the excitement on Geoff’s face as he made a beeline into the kitchen. Once he was out of the room, Gavin turned back to Michael.

“Should we tell him?” he whispered. Michael shook his head.

“Don’t want him to worry,” was his reasoning.

“But he could help. He might know more.”

“More about what?” Geoff had reappeared in the doorway, Coke in hand. Gavin sat up abruptly, tea sloshing in his mug.

“Nothing!” he responded quickly. He might have put in too much fake happiness, because Geoff narrowed his eyes at the pair.

“You know I can help with anything your working on, right? I’m not your boss, manager, superior, and best friend for nothing, right?”

“Course we know,” Michael answered for him, and Gavin shot him a relieved look. For as many lies as he had to tell other people, he always had a hard time lying to Geoff. He was one of his oldest friends, and he practically owed his life to the man. If he spent the time to actually think about it, he may literally owe him his life from some point or another

“So,” Geoff began, coming around the back of the couch to lean between the two, “what did you close on the laptop when I came in?”

Gavin wanted to share another secretive look with his boi, but seeing as Geoff had placed himself directly between the two, that wouldn’t work as well.

Instead, Michael just sighed and opened the laptop again. He maneuvered to the history, tilting the screen back to show Geoff.

“’Ryan Haywood?’” he read. “What are you guys doing looking at a model?”

“Gavin’s convinced he’s another hitman.”

“He is!” Gavin defended. “I saw him with dead bodies at a party! If that isn’t proof, I don’t know what is!”

“But we don’t have that on camera. We can’t check his face!”

“You can see him in the ballroom! Isn’t that enough? Plus I saw him. I talked to him! You think I wouldn’t recognize the face of a model?”

“Then what about your ideas with the clown, huh? You’re trying to blame that on him, too!”

“I’m telling you there was a clown!”

“Once again, no evidence!”

“Guys,” Geoff cut in, silencing them both. Neither had noticed his lack of response while they bickered. They turned to look at him, but he was still fixed on the screen. “You think Haywood’s a killer?”

Gavin nodded firmly. “I know what I saw, Geoff. He’s a hitman, and while he may be reckless, he obviously knows what he’s doing and has backup. There’s no bad press about him online, nothing even remotely suspicious, but I know what I saw.”

“I believe you,” Geoff murmured. He took another long look before standing up. “I want to check something, see if I can find out something about him. If he’s really a hitman, I might know his boss. Let me make a call.”

“Sure,” Gavin responded, while Michael just hummed in agreement. His partner didn’t seem as enthused by the news as Gavin felt he should, but even he didn’t feel excited about the thought of the truth. He was mostly just tired. Thoughts of the other man had been plaguing his thoughts for weeks, and he just wanted to put it behind him.

Geoff probably noticed their moods, because he pulled a piece of paper from his hoodie pocket along with his phone. “This is for you.” He extended it to Gavin. “New mission. Japan, in a few days. I know you love heading there.”

He did. He took the paper, already scanning to see if he could use his favorite killing method. It looked promising and he called a thank you to Geoff as the older man walked further into the apartment to make his call.

Gavin could see Michael open his laptop again over the paper. His own mood had gone up exponentially, and even though Michael wouldn’t show it, he knew he was glad to have Geoff on the case. If there was anyone who could get to the bottom of the mystery, it was Geoff.

“Fugu?” Michael joked, poking the paper and then Gavin’s leg. He squawked, wrestling himself away from more pokes.

“Yes!” he got out between dodges. “More fugu!”

“You should really do something different,” Michael warned. “They’ll figure out it’s the same person killing everyone with bad fish.

“But that could be fun! I’d be known for something!”

“You’re a hitman, you’re not supposed to be known at all.”

He groaned loudly, but that only opened himself up for another poke. They were only a few seconds from an all-out poke war when Geoff came back. Gavin turned to greet him, but his smile dropped when he noticed Geoff’s mood. He let the other man approach quietly until he had resumed his lean between the two.

“Pull up the website,” he instructed, and Michael did just that. For the third time that morning, Gavin found himself staring at the annoying smirk of Ryan Haywood. Before he could complain aloud, Geoff continued, “Scroll down.”

Michael paged down until they were looking at the fine print. Gavin could see Geoff scan the type before pointing to a small ‘BB’ hidden between legal jargon. “Click that.” Gavin noticed Michael giving him a suspicious look, but he hovered over the letters anyway. The cursor didn’t change, and Gavin flashed a glance at Geoff. The other man just waited.

Michael clicked.

The webpage scrolled itself back up to the top and the entire color palette shifted. The red that had accented the image engulfed the entire page, taking over any white or grays that had been present. The image itself also changed, ever so slightly shifting as Haywood smile grew darker, something more manic appearing in his eyes. At the top of the page, the text jumbled itself before forming new links.

In that same bold, professional typeface, the title now read ‘Battle Buddies’.

Michael was the first person to speak, and he about summed up Gavin’s feelings. “Oh.”

 

After the chat he’d had with Jack after his last mission, where Jack had shouted on more than one occasion something along the lines of, “Do you even know the meaning of the phrase ‘no witnesses?’”, Ryan was determined to do his best on this next mission. Unfortunately, it seemed like that meant taking a page out of the other unknown hitman’s book.

He grumbled again as he adjusted his headband. While this hospital and resort didn’t seem to have a Japanese equivalent for ‘waiter’, he was still going to see if anyone would notice a chef offering drinks. He’d slip poison into one of the drinks, offer it to the target, and be out. Hopefully no one would find that suspicious, but it seemed about the safest option he could go with. He was a bit worried about what Jack would do if he killed too many people unnecessarily. Or at least, unnecessary in Jack’s eyes.

It hadn’t taken long for Ryan to make his way to the kitchen and acquire the uniform. The poor guy who had been wearing it was now taking a nice nap inside a freezer that was suspiciously human sized. He was still adjusting his disguise, already looking around for glasses he could serve, when he heard a faint voice from the hallway.

“Incoming, only one,” Jeremy informed him.

“Right,” Ryan responded, turning to head toward the storage room and its vacant freezer hiding spot, but he stopped short. Something about that voice, getting louder now, seemed familiar. Ryan didn’t like familiar. Familiar meant someone who might know who he was, and that in turn meant someone who could ruin an alibi. Familiar on a mission meant imminent failure.

So why was that voice familiar?

“Ryan!” Jeremy barked, startling Ryan back to reality.

The first thing he heard was the now very clear voice from the hallway.

“All I’m saying is, in retrospect, it’s not very well hidden.”

His ability to understand what the voice was saying meant the other person was close, and he probably wouldn’t make it into the other freezer on time. Fortunately for him, there was another hiding spot right next to him.

Unfortunately, it was already occupied.

Fortunately, there was still a disturbing amount of room left, which Ryan quickly crawled his way into.

He’d narrowed the lid to just a tiny sliver for air and eavesdropping when the other man entered the room. If he could just wait it out, the other chef would be gone before he even realized the kitchen was a bit short-staffed. As he strolled into the room, he continued his conversation seemingly with himself. “I understand it took us weeks, but that just means we weren’t looking hard enough!”

It took everything in Ryan’s willpower to keep the lid steady as the realization of why that voice sounded so familiar hit him all at once. The voice was taken on a British accent now and was lacking the element of fear, but Ryan could recognize it anywhere. It had haunted him for the past few weeks, their short dialogue flipping through his mind over and over.

It was the other hitman.

He wanted to tell Jeremy. He wanted to tell Jeremy so bad, since the other one hadn’t said anything to indicate he’d recognized him too. Jeremy had to know, needed to know so they could get screenshots. Here the other guy was again, right in front of him, and he was stuck in a freezer.

“True,” the other hitman was saying, “but it’s still really unsecure! Any bloke could click around and accidently hit it.”

Through his sliver, he could see the chef’s insignia on the back of the uniform. He must have had a similar idea to Ryan. Well, technically, it might have been the other hitman’s idea first, but he was on this mission first! Carefully, he titled the lid up higher to get a better look, ignoring the immediate protests from Jeremy.

The other man still had his back to him, leaning over the counter directly in front of Ryan. While it wasn’t the most counter space, it did offer him a good view of the rest of the room, as did Ryan’s spot behind him. The man’s hair was shorter under the headband and now had a much more wild personality to it than when it had been slicked back before. Ryan wanted to curse. He’d hoped to get a better look at him, but it seemed the back would be the best he’d get.

The other man was holding a large knife, alternating between cutting and brandishing it about as he muttered to himself and probably whoever was working with him. “Either way it’s still dumb. Speaking of dumb, what’s up with that name? ‘Battle Buddies?’”

Ryan froze. He could tell Jeremy had frozen too, due to the sudden amount of silent static in his ear.

He was talking about them.

“It’s so unprofessional,” the hitman continued, unknowing that the co-owner of the title he was insulting was behind him and could be at his neck in three seconds or less. To lessen the urge to immediately strangle his competition, he tilted the lid back down until it was only a sliver.

“Ryan,” Jeremy said slowly over the comms. “Why is he talking about us?”

He didn’t know what Jeremy wanted from him; he couldn’t exactly answer with the guy right in front of him. Instead, he stayed still, just listening and hoping that the other man would keep going. Sooner or later, Jeremy would realize that it was the other hitman.

“Our name is too professional!” the other man protested, voice getting marginally louder but not angrily. “There’s nothing wrong with ‘Team Nice Dynamite’! It can even be shortened. ‘TND’ looks way better than ‘BB.’”

Ryan really wanted to punch this guy.

“You love it and we both know it,” the hitman cooed. He paused, putting a hand on his hit despite the large knife it still held. “Do you think I should try some? I can make it properly, you know. Gotta make it right to know how to make it wrong.”

Whoever he was talking to must have rejected him, because his coos turned to whining. “But Micoo! It wouldn’t hurt anyone to have a taste!” Another moment later and, “I just said I know how to do it right. I won’t kill myself or anything.”

Ryan wracked his brain, trying to figure out what they were talking about now. What could he be making that would not only fit in here, but have a high chance of killing someone? A sudden memory of a conversation with Jeremy and Jack at a sushi place gave him his answer.

This guy was going to feed whoever his target was fugu.

Man, that seemed like a cool way to kill someone. He should really look into it.

The hitman continued to argue with his contact, but Ryan’s focus was dragged away by Jeremy. “There’s nothing on ‘Team Nice Dynamite’ anywhere on the internet. I’m messaging Jack now. Telling him it’s urgent.” Ryan wasn’t about to protest. He was ready to have a solid name for the person who’d been annoying his subconscious since the party.

“Whatever. I’m just glad I haven’t seen Haywood around this time. Seemed like he was following me there for a bit.” Ryan’s attention latched back onto the other hitman at the sound of his name. What did he mean following him? He’d only been on the one job in Sapienza since the party. Unless that meant . . .

“I really don’t like him, you know,” the hitman commented as if he was talking about the weather. “No regard for others’ lives. No subtlety. His jobs all look like a mess of chaos. It’s a miracle he hasn’t been caught yet.”

He was too subtle! The fool didn’t even know he was behind him right now. He was tempted to come out just to prove the point, but Jeremy knew him too well and tossed in a quick, “No.”

“That was one time!” the other hitman protested in a tone of voice that could only be described as squawking. “Michael, you’ll never let me live that down, will you, Michael?”

Well, there was one name, or at least it sounded more like a proper name than ‘Micoo’. And the hitman thought that they were the ones with a dumb name.

“Fake fugu’s ready!” he announced. Ryan didn’t realize how tired his legs were from crouching until he realized he could get up soon. “Let’s get this over with so I can come home!” The cheery bickering got quieter as Ryan imagined the other man left. He still waited until Jeremy gave him the signal.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, finally out of the box and able to speak again.

“I don’t know, and I don’t like it,” Jeremy agreed. “Finish up and get out of there. We can discuss it at home. Jack hasn’t gotten back to me yet anyway”

He had a tray of waters in hand and was leaving the room when Jeremy added, “Be careful. He knows it’s you now. Don’t let him see you.”

Jeremy didn’t have to tell him twice.

 

Gavin stood perfectly at attention, fugu in front of him as he waited for his target. His boi had told him he was heading this way, so it was only a matter of time. While he waited, he did one of his favorite things and people watched. So far it wasn’t very impressive, just a bunch of lazy people waiting for their appointments at the hospital.

His target finally appeared at the far end of the room, and Gavin shifted up to stand taller. The targets profile said he enjoyed sushi, so Gavin knew he’d make his way over. He just had to make sure he chose him and not the other chef next to him.

A flash of brown hair snatched his gaze away from the target, eyes locking instead immediately on the profile of Ryan Haywood.

No. Not here, not now. He couldn’t interrupt another one of Gavin’s missions. He bit his cheek, the pain reminding him he couldn’t step out of line.

He needed to tell Michael, but he was surrounded by people. As casually as he could, he ran one hand along the counter. “Hey, this wood’s rather nice,” he murmured quietly, but loud enough he knew his mic would pick it up. He immediately flicked his gaze back to Haywood and pointed, hand still mostly obscured by the counter. Luckily, the rapid sound of keystrokes from the other end of the comms told him his boi had gotten the idea.

He slapped his polite smile back on just as his target stopped in front of him. He bowed before gesturing to the fish. “Fugu?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while to get out! Life got a bit busy.  
> Set-up is nearing completion, and we can finally get into the big important (and fun) mission!


	4. Fourth Opinions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As both teams relax and plan for their next mission, a chance meeting mixes everything up.

Ryan was approaching his third hour straight of staring at his laptop. Well, third hour of the day. He’d spent most of his time staring at the webpage since Jack had sent them the link four days ago. The moment they’d gotten back from Japan, Ryan had parked himself of the couch, laptop on his outstretched legs, and stared.

So far, nothing had happened.

He was convinced the webpage, and to a lesser extent a certain man in particular, was mocking him.

The webpage’s background was swirls of black, as if someone had tie-dyed it with only black. In a faint gray, the outline of a bundle of dynamite was laid over it. Stuck on the dynamite was a cartoon smiley face. A white line separated the top third of the page. The upper left hand corner boasted the phrase ‘Team Nice Dynamite’, with the other side offering the words, or possibly names, ‘Free’ and ‘Jones’, separated by a small white dot, all in a crisp capitalized font. Below the line was the phrase, ‘World’s Best Hitman. Available for parties.’ In the center of the screen was an email address.

More than once he’d been tempted to send them an email, but he’d steered himself away from it. It was coincidence they’d met the two times they already had, and nothing had really happened from it. There was no reason for him to be butting into their business, especially now that he knew the guy was legit.

That didn’t stop him from glaring at the completely unhelpful website for hours on end.

“If you keep frowning like that, you’re going to get wrinkles. Then no one will hire you.”

Jeremy’s voice jolted Ryan back to reality. He shifted his gaze from the laptop to the man now leaning over the back of the couch. The shorter man grinned innocently.

“Rude,” Ryan commented. “Don’t forget your livelihood depends on my modeling just as much as mine.” Jeremy only shrugged it off, handing him a can of Diet Coke. He took it, setting it on the coffee table next to him, but didn’t stop shooting daggers at his friend.

One peak at Ryan’s screen had Jeremy sighing over-dramatically. “Are you seriously still looking at that webpage?” Jeremy asked, moving around the end of the couch to flop down in one of their chairs. He took a long swig of his own soda before continuing. “If it hasn’t shown you the secrets of the universe yet, it’s not going to anytime soon.”

“I know that,” Ryan grumbled. As futile as his current methods were, they still felt better than just ignoring it. His thoughts had been consumed with this mysterious hitman for the past month, and he finally had a lead. Pretty much a dead end, but still a lead.

Shaking off his thoughts, he redirected the conversation. “Have you been having better luck, then? Any leads with the names?”

Jeremy stared knowingly at Ryan, making sure he knew that the other knew he was avoiding the problem, but he relented anyway. “Nope. Still nothing on ‘Team Nice Dynamite’. I tried matching the name you heard, ‘Michael’, with both ‘Free’ and ‘Jones’. Nothing much for ‘Free’. Only thing I got for ‘Jones’ was an electrician’s website that hasn’t been touched in years. I even tried ‘Micoo’. Nothing.”

Ryan wanted to curse at this other hitman. He was too good, covered his tracks so well that he basically didn’t exist. It was a good thing, from the perspective that he couldn’t be tracked down or caught that way, but not good from the I-want-to-know-more-about-my-competition perspective.

“We could ask Jack again?” Jeremy offered, not for the first time, and Ryan shut him down quickly, not for the first time.

“I don’t want to keep bothering him with our-” he shot a look at Jeremy before correcting himself, “my inability to research properly. We haven’t tried everything yet. Besides, it’s not like this guy is getting in our way or anything. It’s just-”

He was suddenly very aware of his voice rising in volume. He stopped, took a deep breath, and then continued. “I just want to know what I’m dealing with in case I run into him again. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his poisonous fish.”

Jeremy snorted, trying to save the sip of soda he’d just taken. When he’d recovered from his miniature coughing fit, he leveled a kind gaze on his partner. “You know that is what Jack is there for right? He’s not just our boss, he’s also our friend and informant. He’s supposed to help us when we can’t handle things.”

“We can handle it though,” Ryan rebutted. “This guy hasn’t done anything to us directly, and vice versa. It’s handled.”

He got a shrug and a swig of coke in response. “Whatever you say, Mr. Glares-a-lot. Have you cashed the check for our new mission yet?”

Ryan shook his head, letting out a sigh completely unrelated to the rival hitman.

When they’d gotten back, they’d found an unaddressed envelope waiting on the floor inside their door. They’d opened it to find a new mission, with half the fee already paid upfront. It hadn’t said who it’d been from, but the back of the paper had an interesting drawing on it. Frankly, it looked like a child with a box of crayons had tried to draw a sunset, so they hadn’t been quite sure of how to interpret that. Technically, they were allowed to take missions outside of what Jack gave them, but the whole thing made Ryan suspicious.

The mission itself was also weird, asking that he only incapacitate the target and bring him somewhere. He didn’t like missions where he couldn’t kill the target. There was too much room for error. If you were already killing someone, you couldn’t exactly over-kill them; dead meant dead. If your whole goal was to not kill them, it was all too easy to hurt them enough to kill them. He didn’t like the extra step of caution he had to take.

It certainly didn’t help that the party the mission would take place at required everyone entering to bring a date.

“I haven’t,” Ryan finally answered. His long pause only made Jeremy shoot a glare at him.

“Have you even told Jack about it?”

Another long pause. “Jack doesn’t require us to tell him about all our extra missions.”

“It’s still polite!” Jeremy snapped. He took an angry sip of his soda, and Ryan was tempted to do the same with his unopened Diet Coke. “Whatever, it’s your grave,” Jeremy mumbled into his can, which froze Ryan’s arm where he’d been reaching.

“What was that?” he asked, voice harsher than he’d meant to. He saw Jeremy stiffen, only for a fraction of a second, before regular happy Jeremy returned. A little too happy, but he could see the genuineness still hiding in his smile.

“Whatever you do, it should be off the couch.” Jeremy abruptly stood up, walked the few feet over to the couch, and sat directly on Ryan’s legs. Ryan winced at his weight and the uncomfortable position it forced his legs into. “I haven’t been able to sit here in days, and you’re starting to make an imprint in the cushions.”

With the hand not holding a soda, he slammed Ryan’s laptop closed, nearly catching his fingers in the process. He beamed cheerily down at Ryan.

Ryan’s glare from earlier returned in full force.

“You remember how I always keep a knife on me?” Ryan prompted, stretching his mouth into the smile he liked to wear when his victim realized their fate. “Do you want to see a demonstration?”

Jeremy’s eyes widened and in a spit second he was up again. He shook a finger at Ryan. “No stabbing your friends.”

“What about my coworkers?” Ryan shot back as Jeremy walked away. He finally grabbed his soda and popped it open.

“So I’m not your friend now?” Jeremy asked over his shoulder. “You know a guy for three years, even bring him sodas, and now you’re not even friends. How rude.”

“You’re the rude one.” Ryan shifted, rubbing his legs to remove the dull ache Jeremy had caused by sitting on them.

“Seriously, though.” Jeremy turned in the opening to the hall that led further into the apartment. “I’m going to go take a shower. You should get out of the house. That maaaay or may not be the last Diet Coke you just opened.”

Jeremy had barely even gotten to the bathroom door before Ryan was tying his shoes. “Cash the check!” he shouted right as the door slammed, only to reopen immediately and close again a few moments later.

 

Gavin had been enjoying the peace and quiet of the morning until Michael slid the balcony door to the side. He smiled up at his friend, who just kind of eyed him from the doorway, brushing his teeth with one hand.

“G’morning!” Gavin chirped, closing the laptop that sat on his lap. He quickly dragged over the second chair from the corner to the other side of the little table they kept out there, catching its legs on everything in the way. Michael watch him struggle before holding up one finger and walking away.

After another moment of watching the skyline, Michael plopped down in the chair next to Gavin.

“What are you doing up and being productive?” Michael asked, purposefully checking his phone for the time. “It’s barely 9.”

Gavin shrugged. “Woke up early, couldn’t fall back asleep, didn’t want to just lay around.” He flipped his laptop back open and clicked several windows open. “Instead, I checked all our emails, organized a couple things, and did some other basic things.” He titled the screen to Michael, who leveled him with a gaze that was a mix of unimpressed and disbelieving. It was a hard look to pull off, but Gavin was used to it from his boi.

“You did all that this morning. Without being asked,” he prompted. Gavin nodded enthusiastically. He tried to be a good business partner, taking charge when he could, but Michael always liked to tease him for it. That’s just how their partnership, and their friendship, went.

“I even did some studying up for the new mission!” he added excitedly. The new mission had been waiting for them when they got back from Japan, and the two of them hadn’t had anything scheduled so they took it. Plus, being paid half up front didn’t hurt, even though the job itself was a little different than normal. “I was looking over the building’s blueprints again, and I messaged Dan. I asked him to be my date, like usual. Figured I’d have a better chance of catching him because of the time difference.”

“Did you tell Geoff about it yet?” Michael asked.

Gavin shook his head. “Figured I’d wait until I heard from Dan. I’ll do it after that.”

Michael scoffed. “Don’t forget about it like you always do.”

Gavin reeled back with a loud gasp. Him? Forget to tell someone something? He would never! “Michael, when have I done that, Michael?”

“All the time,” Michael drawled. “Like last week, when you forgot to tell me we were out of toilet paper after I asked you to check. And the week before, with the milk. And the week before that-”

“Alright, alright, I get the point!” Gavin hurried to stop Michael before he continued. Now that he mentioned it, maybe he was a little forgetful, but now with important things like work. He prided himself on taking his work completely seriously.

Michael watched him carefully, a slight smile on his face. “Did you get the groceries then, with all the things you forgot to tell me about before I went shopping?”

Gavin shrunk further into his chair. “No,” he mumbled. It wasn’t work, though, so he allowed himself to be berated.

“How about cashing the check for the mission?”

Okay, that he had forgotten to do. It was lying on the counter, right next to-

The grocery list.

“How about I go take a walk?” he suggested. He immediately started trying to remove himself from the balcony and his boi’s presence. The laptop got left on Michael’s lap, which earned him an annoyed “Hey!” Once he’d managed to remove himself from the tangle of legs and furniture, he rushed inside to the two pieces of paper and his wallet.

“Add some more Diet Coke to the list!” Michael yelled from the balcony. “I think Geoff took the last one when he visited last.”

“Got it!” Gavin chirped quickly before darting out the front door.

The moment he hit the sidewalk outside the apartment building, Gavin realized just how tired he was. The awakeness he had felt earlier had worn off through his productive work on the balcony, leaving him with a groggy feeling that didn’t bode well for his walk. The big superstore with the bank attached suddenly seemed too far away. Luckily, there was a smaller supermarket only a few blocks from the house. He wouldn’t even have to ride his scooter over.

Gavin set out at a lazy pace, zipping up his hoodie against the cool morning breeze. He still had the two slips of paper in his hand. After eyeing them for a moment, he slipped the check carefully into the hoodie pocket while shoving the list down into his shorts’ pocket with his wallet. That way, he figured, he could keep one hand on the check without seeming suspicious.

He reached the store in only a handful of minutes. The banks wouldn’t open for another half an hour, so he had time to wander the aisles. A stray cart was hanging around by the door, which he grabbed and pushed toward the food aisles. Pulling out the list, he made his way around in no particular order as he collected the items.

He was double checking his completed list one last time when he realized his cart was missing one essential item. He’d completely forgotten to get any Diet Coke, which was weird. At this point they were so used to getting it for Geoff that it was practically second nature. He swung the cart around, humming to himself as he made his way toward the soda aisle.

He slowly inched in front of the aisle, trying to peak around the corner as he turned to not hit anyone, only to cut off mid-hum as his gaze fell on a horrifyingly familiar form.

Gavin yanked the cart away from the aisle, wincing at the screech it made across the shop floor. He fumbled with his left hand to throw his hood over his head, all while trying his best to casually keep pushing past the aisle as if he’d never wanted to turn at all. Instead, he turned into the next aisle and flattened himself against the shelves like he was on a mission.

_Please don’t let him have seen me_ , he all but chanted in his head. From his quick look, the other hadn’t been looking in his direction, so he should be fine, right? The screech probably hadn’t helped, but it had been quiet enough.

Gavin was an aisle away from Haywood, and he was not thrilled about it.

He still needed to get Geoff’s Coke.

Why the heck was Haywood here anyway? In Austin, his town, let alone this tiny little shop? It made no sense.

Even so, Gavin was on a mission. He steeled himself, tugging the hood farther over his head, before calmly pushing his cart around the corner into the soda aisle.

Haywood was still standing further down, looking intently toward the shelves full of soda. To Gavin’s horror, he pulled a twelve pack of Diet Coke out and placed in in his basket. He then grabbed a second.

Haywood was blocking Gavin from his goal. He repressed a shudder as his brain immediately flashed back to Italy and a certain rubber-duck induced explosion. No, that man wasn’t going to steal his kill again today. Or his Diet Coke.

Still. He really did not want to interact with the other hitman at all.

As casually as he could when all he wanted to turn and run the other direction, Gavin pushed the cart toward the Coke. The closer he got, the more it was clear that Haywood was blocking the entire Coke section and seemed to have no intention of leaving. He was already reaching for a third pack. Slightly miffed and a lot nervous, Gavin pulled up short and walked around his cart. The Pepsi was right next to the Coke. Geoff would have to settle.

Gavin grabbed a twelve pack of diet soda and turned to his cart. Unlike Haywood, whose entire basket was empty other than his carbonated bounty, Gavin’s was full of all the other things he’d gotten. He hadn’t left any space to set down the soda.

Desperately, he shoved his fruits around to make room without squishing anything. When he finally got it settled in, he stood back up only to feel Haywood’s gaze on him.

It was probably fine, Gavin reasoned with himself. Haywood had only really seen him that one time, a month ago, and he’d looked completely different. He’d cut his hair, trimmed his beard, and was wearing completely different clothing. When they’d spoken, he’d been using his American accent, so he should be able to handle any small comments. Yeah, definitely fine.

“It’s you.”

Not fine.

Despite his heartrate jumping up, Gavin felt oddly calm. If anything, he felt like his hitman instincts where taking over. Thanks to his clear mind, he was able to notice the tone of voice Haywood had used. It wasn’t angry, or accusatory. Only surprised, maybe even curious.

Even so, he didn’t like what Haywood was actually saying.

“Wot?” he asked, laying on the accent. All he had to do was pretend he was back in England, having a drink in the pub with Dan. Easy peasy.

“You’re the other-” Haywood cut himself off. Gavin chanced a look and found Haywood glancing around warily. He did have location on his side. Haywood couldn’t do anything crazy out in public, even if it was only a sparsely occupied store on a weekday morning.

“I think you’ve got the wrong bloke,” Gavin mumbled, turning his cart around so he could push it away.

“No, you’re him,” Haywood insisted. Gavin needed to leave, soon. Why was Haywood so sure about this? He shouldn’t know.

“Look, mate, I’m just here for some Coke, I don’t know what you’re on about.” He pushed the cart away, turning hastily at the end of the aisle to get away from the other man as fast as possible.

He was just starting to feel like he’d gotten away, having turned down a random aisle, when Haywood had called out behind him, “Hey you dropped something.”

In retrospect, it was very clearly a trap. Gavin should have realized, very easily, that it was a trap. Yet, he still turned around to find Haywood holding up a slip of paper with a faint sunset on it.

The check.

He shoved him hand in his hoodie pocket, only to find a piece of paper safely in place. He pulled it out to stare at the check, before glaring up at the man holding an identical one.

Haywood was smirking as he strode toward Gavin. He was torn between wanting to punch him in the face or ditch his cart and run, so he just stood there and stared him down.

“What do you want?” Gavin asked more coolly than he was feeling.

Despite being the one to initiate everything, Haywood seemed taken aback by the question. Gavin watched as his expression morphed into one of contemplation.

“Who are you?” he responded finally.

Gavin couldn’t help the laugh that rose up. “Really? That’s what you wanted to ask? Who am I?”

Haywood frowned. “It’s a legitimate question.”

“Shouldn’t you already know that, Mr. Battle Buddy?” Gavin taunted. He realized taunting a man who had already threatened him on one occasion was probably not his best idea, but Michael was a lot of his impulse control, and Michael wasn’t here right now.

Haywood rose to the bait, thankfully not angrily, defensively shooting back, “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with the name Battle Buddies!”

Gavin started, ready to shoot back the first thing that came to mind before he caught Haywood’s wording. “I didn’t say there was anything wrong with the name.”

Haywood froze, which gave Gavin a moment to think about when he had insulted the name. The only time he really remembered talking about it was . . .

Japan. Right before he saw Haywood pretending to be a waiter.

“You were spying on my in Japan!” Gavin practically shrieked. There was no way, since Michael had been watching the cams the whole time and would have told him if someone was around, but he could not think of another time he’d talked about their name. It made too much sense, and Gavin hated it. He liked being in control, and being eavesdropped on? No one liked that.

“I was not!” Haywood immediately shot back.

Gavin just glared harder, turning to fully face the other man. “There is no other way you would know that I thought your name was silly. It would have to have been Japan,” he explained. Haywood sputtered, trying to throw in arguments but Gavin wasn’t listening. Instead he just barreled on. “Why don’t you just keep eavesdropping and get my name that way, hmm?”

Haywood seemed to compose himself at that. “That was one time, and it was not on purpose. Look, I want to build trust with you. I don’t want us to be enemies. That means not spying on you. Hence, me asking you upfront.”

“Trust?” Gavin asked, trying the word out. It didn’t seem like something he necessarily wanted to have with the other man, and it was definitely something Michael would shoot down in an instant. Still, he liked the idea of not fighting with Haywood. “Why should I trust you? From what I’ve seen, you’ve literally threatened to kill me, stolen my kill, and eavesdropped on me. What part of those says ‘trustworthy’ to you?”

“To be fair, I didn’t know who you were when I threatened you, and I just apologized for the spying. What do you mean, stole your kill?”

Oh right. Haywood didn’t know about that. Whoops. Michael would kill him later for letting that slip, but he was committed now whether he wanted to be or not. “Sapienza. A certain rubber duck thrown by an absolute clown blew up my target. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Haywood’s averted gaze told Gavin that the other man certainly knew something about that. “The explosion was bigger than I thought it would be,” he mumbled. When he straightened up, he looked every bit the professional most of the world knew him as. “I’m sorry. That was not on purpose, and neither were any of the other things you mentioned. I do still want to build a friendly relationship with you, so I’m going to ask: What do you want me to do in order to prove I can be trustworthy?”

The rational part of his brain told Gavin to politely tell Haywood he was going to think about it and go talk to Michael and Geoff. Or he could just blatantly turn him down, say he could never trust him and leave it at that. Instead, he said “Maybe not do those sorts of things?”

Haywood took a moment to process that, during which time Gavin mentally kicked himself. When Haywood finally spoke, it was slowly and carefully. “I have an idea, and it’s going to seem insane, but I think it could be good.”

“I’m not opposed to a little insane,” Gavin answered hesitantly. His mind flashed to the previous day, when he’d nearly broken a lamp in the apartment by throwing a ball around. Michael had threatened him, but it still hadn’t stopped him from throwing a few more.

“Well, if you wanted to keep an eye on me, and I wanted to learn more about you without being a creep, I happen to know someplace we’ll both be in a few days.” Haywood pointedly looking down at Gavin’s hoodie pockets. He’d conveniently shoved the idea of Haywood being at the same party as him out of his mind almost as soon as it had entered, but now Haywood was purposefully making him think of the potential catastrophe ahead. “That party happens to have one little requirement to it.”

Gavin’s mind went blank trying to think about what Haywood was talking about, until a certain thing he’d told Michael earlier pinged back into his consciousness. I messaged Dan. I asked him to be my date, like usual.

If that was what Haywood meant . . .

“Are you asking me out?”

Haywood sputtered. “No. Yes. Sort of.” Haywood’s face was quickly turning red, which would have been hilarious if Gavin hadn’t felt his own face growing hot. Yes, Haywood was a top notch model, and not for no reason, but he had no intention of involving himself like that.

“It’d be like a work date. I could watch you, learn from you, and you could watch me so that you knew I was out of your way. No more charades or messing each other up. Besides, we’d still have both of our backup making sure neither of us pulls something. It’s a pretty good plan, when you think about it” Haywood rambled, obviously still a little flustered. Gavin let him talk, turning the idea over in his mind.

Michael would hate it. That was a given. Michael might be an even bigger control freak than himself when it came to missions, especially because he was the one who was supposed to see everything. Burdening his boi with having to watch for the other man would only make his job harder. Then again, they’d actually know Haywood was there, and what to watch out for. Watching him purposefully might not be that bad.

But he really would like to keep Haywood in check.

And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the other hitman.

Haywood was still mumbling through something, slipping over his words by the sound of it, but Gavin’s voice was firmer than he’d anticipated. “Okay.”

Haywood stopped. Gavin waited.

“Oh.” He sounded genuinely surprised, which probably didn’t bode well, but he shoved the thought to the side. “Alright then. I guess, uh, I’ll meet you at the bench next to the mail drop off, about half a block east? 6:52?”

“52?”

“It’s a weird number, so it’s easier to remember. At least I think so.” Haywood held out a hand. “Deal?”

Gavin eyed it. The little Michael that was his common sense told him to slap it away, turn around, and get the hell out of dodge.

Gavin shook Haywood’s hand.

“Well,” Haywood started, clearly unsure what to do now that they were shaking hands in the middle of a grocery store at 10 a.m. on a Wednesday. “I guess I’ll see you then.” He let go, shifting the basket full of Diet Cokes that had to have been getting heavy on his arm. “I’ll go, uh, pay for these.” He nodded a little goodbye before turning around and leaving, which just left Gavin standing in the middle of an empty aisle with his cart and a date for Saturday.

He wasn’t really sure what to do now.

He wanted to leave as soon as possible, but Haywood was most likely at the checkout. Having to stand in line behind him would be absolutely horrible and he wanted to avoid that if at all possible.

A thought popped into his mind as he considered hiding until Haywood left. He’d never answered Haywood’s first question.

Who are you?

He turned his cart around and pushed it out of the aisle as fast as possible. He could see Haywood’s form walking to where he knew the checkouts were.

“Haywood,” he called.

He watched the other man stop quickly, turning over his shoulder to raise an eyebrow at Gavin.

“Free.”

Haywood looked at him blankly. “No,” he said slowly, “I think the Coke costs.”

“No, I’m Free,” he corrected. At the continued blank stare, he added, “My name’s Free.”

He saw the recognition light up the other man’s face. The smile he earned seemed genuine. “Thanks. I’m Haywood. Ryan Haywood.”

Gavin already knew that, but he still answered, “Thanks. See you Saturday.”

Haywood nodded before turning and continuing on. Gavin pushed himself back into the aisle to hide as the Michael in his mind yelled at him for no less than five things that had transpired in the past ten minutes.

 

“I’m home!” Gavin yelled as he shut the door behind himself with his foot. He’d somehow managed to fit all his groceries in four bags, which he was grateful to be able to set down. He left them by the door in favor of finding Michael still on the balcony.

“Did you cash the check?” he asked without looking away from the laptop. Gavin couldn’t make out what was on the screen thanks to the light, but it sure looked like a game.

“Sure did!” Like he’d predicted, the bank had been practically empty this early on a weekday. Also luckily for him, there were no Haywoods.

Michael grunted in approval but seemed to be ready to leave the conversation there. Gavin wasn’t about to let that stand. Plus, better to get the news off his chest sooner rather than later. He’d agonized his entire walk over how Michael would react, so he felt like he was ready for the worst.

“I’ve got good news, and related bad news,” he started. Michael made a few more keystrokes before looking over his shoulder at Gavin.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, annoyance clearly starting to rise despite Gavin’s perfectly innocent statements.

“What do you want to hear first?”

“I don’t care, just tell me whatever you wanted to tell me.”

“So the good news is I have a date for Saturday.”

Michael watched him carefully. Gavin felt himself shirk back a little, further back into the house and out of arms’ reach. “Did Dan get back to you already?” Michael asked.

“Bad news is I ran into Haywood and he’s my date now,” Gavin replied in a rush, as if saying it faster would lessen the blow.

Gavin was instantly thankful for the few steps he’d taken back. Before he could realize it, the laptop was off Michael’s lap and his boi was charging through the doorway. He didn’t react in time to stop the hand from firmly grabbing his shoulder, planting him in place.

“What.”

It wasn’t a question. Gavin had no choice but to stare at Michael’s angry face as he rehashed the events of his trip. That meant he had a front row seat for the many levels of anger and annoyance that Michael’s face cycled through.

When Michael finally decided to say something, it was, “You’re an idiot.”

Gavin couldn’t exactly disagree.

The hand slid off his shoulder as Michael walked away, back into the apartment instead of the balcony. Gavin felt his best option was to take his place on the balcony, as far away from Michael as possible.

He was just getting settled with the laptop, which had been running a game Gavin didn’t recognize, when Michael called out, “You didn’t even put away the groceries!”

“Sorry boi!” he yelled back. He started to get up but even from the doorway he could see Michael’s glare as he carried all four bags into the kitchen.

He hadn’t even exited the game by the time he loudly heard, “The hell type of soda is this?”

At least he’d still managed to get diet.

 

Ryan was feeling pretty good by the time he returned to his and Jeremy’s apartment. Jeremy quickly noticed, watching him with a smile as Ryan set down his three cases of Diet Coke.

“Was there a sale on soda or something?” Jeremy asked.

“Nope, but I’ve got good news.” He locked eyes with Jeremy as he announced. “I have a date for the party.”

Jeremy’s frown was not the response he’d been expecting. He had been hoping for some more excitement, but it seemed all he was getting was doubt. “What sort of a date?” Jeremy asked cautiously.

Ryan knew himself well enough to know how evil his smile probably looked. “I’ve got a date with Mr. Free of Team Nice Dynamite.”

Jeremy’s response was simple, but it summed things up pretty well. “Well that makes things interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a while. Sorry about that! I wanted to make sure everything that needed to be in here got included and that it worked as best as I could make it. On the plus side, the chapter ended up longer than usual. I hope you enjoyed it!


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